“Hey, that’s just like in ‘The Terminal’!?” the young lady remarked, noting my creative arrangement of airport chairs into a functional bed. I flashed my best Tom Hanks smile and waved back, but it was half-hearted. The situation seemed much more comical in the movie.

I was reliving this Hollywood scene because the plane coming from Iceland to pick me up was delayed six hours. My night in the air had become a night at the airport. After a two-hour search through all the dusty, unused corners of the terminal, this makeshift bed was the best I could do. Unfortunately, once I discovered that my watch alarm had broken, I had to give up on the idea of sleep altogether. I was certain that I’d miss my 5 a.m. departure if I tried. I eventually made it to Iceland, quite exhausted, and was given a place to stay by a generous Latvian family who explained that their friend at the Keflavík airport had caused the delay by ramming the plane with a luggage conveyor belt. These things happen.